


Darkest before the dawn

by chajatta



Series: undies au [2]
Category: EXO (Band)
Genre: Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Fashion & Models, Asshole University BFF Baekhyun, M/M, Model AU, underwear model au
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-03-05
Updated: 2017-03-05
Packaged: 2018-09-28 12:00:16
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,025
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10099652
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/chajatta/pseuds/chajatta
Summary: Chanyeol isn't blind or stupid. He's noticed the way Jongin is anxious, sometimes, when they're together, has noticed the way he can never quite seem to relax when they're out in public. Chanyeol had just thought Jongin was shy, that he'd relax in time; he'd never thought that the real reason for Jongin's discomfort would be quite like this.





	

**Author's Note:**

> I started this almost immediately after I finished Honey, come set me free, but then for many very tedious reasons it got abandoned. I revisited it almost by accident whilst I should have been working on something else and decided that it needed and deserved to be finished. It was an absolute joy to revisit this universe. 
> 
> Set in the same timeline as Honey, come set me free and will probably make little to no sense without having read that first. Takes place whilst Chanyeol is alone in Seoul at Christmas and Jongin is in Japan for work. Chanyeol POV.

It feels weirder than it probably should, not having Jongin around. 

Even when they aren’t physically together, Jongin has always been just a text message away, and it feels strange, now, after the past couple of months, to know that he and Jongin aren’t even on the same landmass. 

Chanyeol knows he’s probably falling far too quickly, but Jongin has been like a ray of bright winter sunshine in his life since the day they met and the more he gets to know him, the more Chanyeol finds himself powerless to resist Jongin’s boyish charms. 

Jongin has been messaging him sporadically ever since he left, just like he promised he would. It’s nice to hear from him, to know that he’s safe and well, even if he does sound exhausted, but it’s not the same as being able to see his face or touch his skin. Still, when Jongin sends him a message with nothing more than a simple, _I miss you_ , it does something to settle the niggling doubt in Chanyeol’s stomach that he’s the only one who’s in this relationship way deeper than he ever thought he would be. 

Chanyeol’s schedule at the university is more or less clear for the next few days. If Jongin had been here he would have stayed home. He would have taken Jongin out in the snow that’s coated Seoul for the last week or so, would have laced their cold fingers together and dragged him to walk along the frozen banks of the Han. But Jongin isn’t here and, rather than spend Christmas in his empty flat, Chanyeol had rushed home as soon as his last class had ended and packed an overnight bag. 

The ride to his parents’ place, out on the eastern side of Seoul, takes over an hour. It’s a monotonous journey and Chanyeol stares at his phone as he waits for his transfer at Cheonho station, tries to convince himself that he isn’t checking the time, isn’t trying to guess whether Jongin might have finished work yet, isn’t hoping that he might text, even though his messages usually come in the early hours of the morning. 

No message does come, not that Chanyeol really expected it to. He shoves his phone into his pocket when he boards the train and hopes that, whatever it is he’s doing, Jongin isn't working himself too hard. 

It’s a relief when the train finally pulls in at Myeongil station. Chanyeol’s eyes had been starting to glaze over with boredom and he stands gratefully, so eager to finally get out of the subway and feel fresh, cold air on his face, that he barely even notices the huge billboard mounted up on the wall in front of him as he steps off the train. 

But then some part of his brain, some part that is always preoccupied with thoughts of Jongin, must click into place, because Chanyeol’s cursory glance quickly turns into a double take so exaggerated and comical it wouldn’t look out of place in a cartoon or one of those black and white slapstick comedies that Chanyeol’s grandfather always used to watch when he was a child. 

The ad is more than life sized, stretching across the wall between two pillars. It’s so bright and bold that it makes the entire station, from the yellow tiles on the wall to the sparkling glass doors separating the tracks from the platform, look worn and tired. But it isn’t the sheer opulence of the advert that has Chanyeol’s eyes almost bugging out of his head. 

That can’t be Jongin, it _can’t_ be. Sweet, shy Jongin wouldn’t spread himself out over a chaise lounge like some kind of Greek god. Except clearly he would, because that _is_ him and, despite the way his brain currently feels like it’s short circuiting, Chanyeol isn’t so stupid to try and convince himself otherwise. 

Because that is, beyond any doubt, Jongin lying there, braced on one arm and almost completely naked, save for a pair of burgundy briefs that cling to his every curve so tightly that Chanyeol almost feels like he’s prying into something he shouldn’t, as though he’s violating Jongin’s privacy simply by standing here, open mouthed and gormless. 

Despite the pangs of guilt and shock and hurt starting to prickle in the pit of his stomach, Chanyeol finds that he can’t tear his eyes away.

There’s a Christmas scene set up in the background, a tree and a hearth with a crackling fire, but all Chanyeol cares about is Jongin. The only thing he can see is Jongin, all those miles of beautiful skin, the subtle line of his abs and the dark rise of his nipples.

When Chanyeol finally does manage to drag his eyes away, he only gets as far as Jongin’s face. His gaze roves over that face he knows so well, that mouth he’s been craving to taste for days. Jongin has his head tipped back, the fingers of his free hand curled loosely into his hair, and Chanyeol can feel his own clenching into a fist by his side, digging crescents into the soft skin of his palm. 

It feels like hours that Chanyeol stands there in numb disbelief. He’s vaguely aware of another train pulling into the station behind him, then another, until eventually everything fades into unimportant background noise. 

Chanyeol is physically knocked out of his stupor when someone stumbles into his back as they try to pass behind him. Chanyeol falls forward a few steps, closer to the advert, and he has no idea if the person apologises, or if he even does. All Chanyeol knows is that his head is a mess and if he doesn’t tear his eyes away from this billboard soon they’re going to be in danger of falling clean out of his head. 

Chanyeol takes a step back and his hands are shaking when he pulls his phone out of his pocket. He pulls up his contacts and he instinctively goes to hover over Jongin’s name, almost presses his thumb down on the call button, international charges be damned. But a sudden wave of doubt overtakes him and Chanyeol can’t press it. What would he say? What would _Jongin_ say? Chanyeol doesn’t even know how he feels, except for the fact that if he doesn’t speak to _someone_ his head is going to explode. 

So instead Chanyeol snaps a quick shot of the billboard (if staring at it for god knows how long didn’t make him feel like a dirty creep then taking a picture definitely does) and then sends it off to Baekhyun, followed by a long stream of question marks. 

When Baekhyun doesn’t reply to him immediately, Chanyeol stuffs his phone back into his pocket. He casts one last, lingering look at the picture of Jongin and then swallows around the lump in his throat and tears himself away. 

His parents’ place isn’t far from the subway and Chanyeol finds himself grateful for such small mercies. With the way his head is spinning Chanyeol wouldn’t trust himself not to stumble into traffic. 

Chanyeol ducks into a little Italian restaurant nestled inconspicuously on the corner where two streets meet and the wall of noise that hits him is almost staggering. A few regular customers greet him and Chanyeol just barely has the presence of mind beyond anything but the image of Jongin still burnt onto the back of his retinas to greet them in reply.

Word must have reached the back of the restaurant before he does, because Chanyeol doesn’t even have a chance to slip back of house before his mother is emerging from the kitchen. 

“Chanyeol! You’re home!” She calls, sweeping him up into a hug. Despite his inner turmoil Chanyeol laughs, stooping down so that his mother can hug him more easily. 

“Hello, mum,” Chanyeol says softly, tucking a curl of hair behind her ear when it tickles his nose. She pulls away and smiles up at him and Chanyeol’s heart aches. He hasn’t been home in so long and he’d meant to visit, he really had. He knows his family had missed him while he was away in Fiji but between moving into his new place and work and _Jongin_ , Chanyeol just hasn’t been able to find the time. Thinking about Jongin makes Chanyeol’s stomach flip uncomfortably and he tries his best to push it to the back of his mind, for now. 

“Oh, I’ve missed you, my baby boy,” Chanyeol’s mother is cooing, taking Chanyeol’s face in both hands. “I know you must be busy at the university but if you can’t make it home would it kill you to at least ring your old mother at least once in a while?”

Chanyeol’s ears burn and he tries to pull away. “You’re not old,” Chanyeol protests, wincing when she pinches his cheeks but then lets him go. “I know, though, I’m sorry, I’ve just been- I’ve been really busy but I’m sorry.”

His mother smiles fondly, the corners of her eyes crinkling. “Just don’t let it happen again,” she scolds. Chanyeol nods vigorously. “Go and take your things upstairs and rest a little. I’ll call for you if I need you to jump on tables for me, okay?”

Chanyeol scoffs but does as bid, carting his bag up the narrow little staircase in the very back corner of the restaurant that leads up to the flat above it. There hasn’t yet been an occasion that Chanyeol has come home and not had to help out in the restaurant, he doesn’t expect today to be any exception. 

For now though Chanyeol can escape to the solace of his old home. It’s silent, his dad undoubtedly slaving away in the kitchen, and Chanyeol expects that his sister will be put to work as soon as she turns up tomorrow, too. 

Chanyeol drags his bag down the hallway and slips into the last room on the right. 

It’s like entering a time warp, his tiny bedroom virtually unchanged from the day he’d first moved away to university almost ten years ago, now. Chanyeol drops his bag by the door to unpack later and then crosses the room in two strides. There are old science magazines strewn across his desk and Chanyeol thumbs through them absently, unable to concentrate on anything but the way his brain feels like it’s imploding in on itself, ricochetting off the insides of his skull. When Chanyeol looks up he’s met by some old photographs he’d tacked up on the wall above his desk. They’re almost all of him, in the biology club at school, playing on the beach with his sister when they were toddlers, but in all of them Chanyeol is spotty and bespectacled, his limbs too long and his smile too wide, even frozen in time on glossy paper. 

He’d always been an awkward child and he’d never been especially popular at school, not until he’d reached puberty, at least. His height had shot up at what felt like an inch a night and his puppy fat had melted away and then- well, then things had been different. Chanyeol knows he’s attractive now, too, but he also knows that compared to someone like Jongin, he might as well still be the gangly child in the photographs for all that he could compare. 

Chanyeol curls his hand into his hair and pulls, relishing the sharp sting on his scalp for just a moment. All of those times the two of them had gone out together and something about Jongin had been just a little off, like he was constantly on edge. Chanyeol had thought it was just because Jongin was shy, that he didn’t feel comfortable around so many people, but now- god, now it’s so obvious why Jongin had been so out of sorts that Chanyeol can’t help but laugh at himself for not figuring it out sooner. 

Of course the thought of being seen out with him would make Jongin uncomfortable. Of _course_ he’d been worried about being seen with someone who was so clearly below him that it was laughable. Jongin was a public figure, wasn’t he? He had a reputation to protect. Chanyeol could understand that. Hell, it isn’t like he hasn’t known since the minute he met Jongin that he was way out of his league, that Chanyeol was punching above his weight, but the thought of Jongin thinking it too feels like a physical punch to the gut. 

Chanyeol is so absorbed in his own thoughts that he startles violently when his phone goes off in his pocket. He scrambles to answer it, bashing his knee against the side of the desk as he does so. It’s Baekhyun’s name that flashes up across his screen and despite the way he’d wanted to speak to Baekhyun right away, earlier, Chanyeol hesitates a little before he answers the call. 

“Hey, Chanyeol,” Baekhyun starts. The sound of his voice makes Chanyeol feel physically sick and he’s vaguely grateful that he hadn’t had the courage to call Jongin. “Chanyeol? Buddy? You there?” Baekhyun asks again when Chanyeol doesn’t answer. _“Yo.”_

“Yeah, yeah I’m here.” Chanyeol’s voice sounds alien even to his own ears and he moves away from the desk to go and sit on the bed. It creaks alarmingly under his weight. 

“I got your message,” Baekhyun says, without preamble. Chanyeol doesn’t know whether he’s glad for Baekhyun’s bluntness or not. “You wanna talk about it?”

“I-“ Chanyeol tries, but his voice cracks and he clears his throat. “I don’t- did you know?” Chanyeol settles on finally. 

Baekhyun scoffs on the other end of the line. “Of course I knew, Chanyeol. What do you take me for, some kind of idiot?” The words cut deep and even though Chanyeol knows Baekhyun doesn’t intend the insult, he’s tempted to hang up on his friend all the same. 

“How long have you-?” Chanyeol asks, his voice trailing off again. He can’t think, can barely even breathe. 

“Always. We’ve been friends since before we could walk, Chanyeol,” Baekhyun says, his words slow and deliberate. “Who do you think encouraged him to sign the contract in the first place? Who do you think helped him to settle in when he first moved to Seoul?”

“Then why didn’t you tell me?” Chanyeol asks, shrill. He pulls his legs up onto the bed and presses them against his chest, wrapping his free arm around them. “Why did you let me ask him out? God I feel like such a fucking idiot. Jongin must have been laughing at me this whole time, thinking I was good enough for him when he could get literally anyone he wanted. _I’d_ be laughing at me.”

“Spare me the pity party, Chanyeol. It doesn’t suit you,” Baekhyun snaps, his patience beginning to fray. “I didn’t tell you because it isn’t my place to. If Jongin wanted you to know he would have told you and don’t even think about asking me what the reasons are for him not because I won’t betray his trust, Chanyeol, not even for you.”

Chanyeol is silent for the longest time. He curls his toes into his One Piece bedspread and sighs, his breath heaving up out of his chest. 

“I don’t know what to do,” Chanyeol says eventually and he’s sure his voice must sound as scared as he feels because Baekhyun’s voice is uncharacteristically soft when he answers. 

“You’re going to talk to him and you’re not gonna be a dick about it, because I know you’re better than that, aren’t you?”

Chanyeol grunts in response.

“I’m being fucking serious, Chanyeol. I introduced the two of you because I thought you were good enough for him, don’t you dare make me regret that.” Baekhyun’s voice is low and fierce and Chanyeol is childishly grateful for the fact that they’re on the phone and not face to face. “I love Jongin like a little brother and if you hurt him, especially over this, I swear to god, Chanyeol, I’ll make sure you never do it again.”

Someone calls Baekhyun’s name in the background and Baekhyun sighs down the phone. “Listen, Chanyeol, this isn’t a big deal. It’s just a job. Jongin has to earn a living the same as you and me and if modelling is the way he chooses to do it then that’s no business of anyone but himself, not even you. You care about him, don’t you?”

Chanyeol stares down at his feet. His socks had been a joke gift from one of his colleagues at the university, black and printed with sharks. They look like they’re swimming when Chanyeol wiggles his toes. No matter how he feels right now, no matter how hurt and humiliated he is, what Jongin does for a living hasn’t changed the way Chanyeol feels about him. For better or worse, Chanyeol is still hopelessly smitten. 

_“Chanyeol,”_ Baekhyun hisses. That same voice calls for Baekhyun again and even though he pulls the way Chanyeol hears him saying, “I’m coming, babe, just give me a minute.” 

“Of course I care about him,” Chanyeol mumbles when Baekhyun returns. 

“Then talk to him,” Baekhyun says. “Please, just talk to him. Look I need to go but please promise me you’re going to talk to him.”

“Yeah, yeah, I will. See you later.”

“I’ll speak to you soon, okay? Tell your family I say Merry Christmas and just- just try not to freak out, alright?” Baekhyun sounds like he doesn’t really want to leave but Chanyeol makes his promises again and Baekhyun reluctantly hangs up the phone. 

As soon as he’s gone, Chanyeol flings his phone aside. It lands with a dull thump on top of his bed. He needs to get out of this too small room, needs to go for a walk or a drink or _anything_ , anything to take his mind off the way his brain is whirring. 

Chanyeol had promised that he’d speak to Jongin and he will, of course he will, but he needs to sort his head out, first. Jongin deserved that much from him, at the very least.


End file.
